


every single little thing about her (is so overwhelming)

by acid_glue234



Series: poetry of the senses [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, First Dates, First Time, Fluff, Intimacy, Sanvers Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 19:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acid_glue234/pseuds/acid_glue234
Summary: Day 1: Intimacythey’re friends for another month before maggie kisses her back. but this kiss…it’s different.





	every single little thing about her (is so overwhelming)

**Author's Note:**

> title is song lyrics from overwhelming by jon bellion

_“i’m here for you…but as a friend.”_

_"so, still friends?"_

_“c’mon, alex! we’re friends—"_

_“i hope we can still be friends.”_

 

**1.**  

they’re friends for two months before alex kisses her.

 

**2.**

they’re friends for another month before maggie kisses her back.

but this kiss…it’s different.

without even realizing it, she knows how alex likes to be kissed—soft and languid, but with a well-placed bite here or there—and she knows how alex likes to be touched, just where to place her hands—cupping alex’s face, thumbs caressing her cheeks, strong and secure, but not demanding—and she knows just how to press their bodies in—not suffocating, not too tight, but reassuring and present—and the crazy thing is:

alex has never once told her any of this.

all of this intimate knowledge…maggie just…

she just _knows_.

she knows alex’s go-to beer, her favorite pizza order. she knows alex will still be up sipping brandy at one in the morning, and she knows to look into the peephole because alex always grabs her gun and checks before opening the door.

she knows to compliment alex’s pajamas if she wants to make her blush, and she knows just what jeans to wear to make her ass look best, because those lingering brown eyes of alex's aren’t as sly as she thinks.

she knows alex’s drink order—what she gets when she wants to chill versus when she wants to get hammered. she knows to put the honey mustard in a cup beside the fries rather than drenching them in ketchup.

she knows alex will never eat vegan ice cream unless there’s whipped cream on top; she knows to only bet alex in pool after she’s had a few; she even secretly knows that kara is supergirl, and she knows all of this because alex just isn't her only friend in national city.

she knows it because alex is her _best_ friend in national city.

alex is her best friend.

period.

 

**3**.

alex made the first move, and maggie made the second, so alex goes for the third when she asks maggie out on a date.

maggie's nervous throughout most of dinner. nervous she’ll say the wrong thing. nervous she’ll push too hard, too fast. nervous she’ll scare alex away.

but alex is nervous too, maggie can tell; can tell by the way she plays with her hair, bounces her leg, smiles goofily whenever maggie cracks a joke, or says anything, for that matter.

and maggie does the same, nervously sipping her wine a bit too fast, messing with the napkin in her lap a bit too much, tapping her fingers on the table a bit too loudly.

she doesn’t think alex notices, but who’s she kidding; alex is a deo agent.

alex notices _everything_. 

so before appetizers are served, alex reaches across the table and touches maggie’s hand, stopping her antsy jittering as well as her erratic heartbeat.

maggie looks down at their shy fingers and then up into alex’s shy eyes. there, she finds a reassuring smile, and so she takes alex’s hand into her palm and then squeezes to reassure alex right back.

 

**4.**

maggie makes the fourth move, on that very same night.

at alex’s door, after some bashful pleasantries of _i had a great time_ and _we should do this again_ , maggie steps up and pulls alex into a lazy but passionate kiss, nothing but soft lips and just a hint of tongue, at first.

it’s their third makeout, but it feels more like the first, as alex's tongue peeks and seeks her out for more, working her jaw down to deepen their kiss, deepen their connection.

maggie moans, and alex melts into it, so much so that she leans back against her door, fingers wrapping tightly around the fabric of maggie’s loose buttonup to bring her in close, closer still.

her hand spreads against the wall beside alex's head to keep them balanced as she presses her body in further.

they get lost in each other, fast—for how long, who even knows—but then the elevator dings, and they reluctantly separate as an elderly couple shuffles down the hall, the old woman stopping to cup a hand around her mouth and not-so-stealthily whisper, “ _psst_ , alex honey, this one's a cutie. just look at those pretty dimples!"

maggie preens, flashing her dimples just because she can, and alex smiles her thanks, even as her cheeks visibly redden. "have a good night, mrs. sherman, and stay cool," she adds, as an afterthought, "i hear there's gonna be a heatwave."

"oh, forget about us, dear. you're the one who's going to have a long, _steamy_ night," she drawls with a sly wink, and it looks like she wants to say more, but then the embarrassed old man drags his eccentric wife into their apartment across the hallway and locks the door behind them.

all is still for one awkward moment.

"did she just..." maggie starts, trying to hide her amusement, to no avail, "did your sweet little grandneighbor just allude to us having lots of hot sex tonight?"

alex blushes again, turning even redder as she hides her face in maggie’s neck, but maggie just laughs, just relishes in the moment, because she’s almost certain—alex is her best friend, so it’s one of those things she just _knows_ —that mrs. sherman is wrong, that their night won't be long; that it will, in fact, end pretty early, right out here in this hallway.

"aside from that last...moment," alex laughs, still a little pink in the face, and it's adorable. "tonight was fun."

"it was," maggie agrees, but then, just because she can't help herself, "however, i doubt it's the kind of _steamy_ fun mrs. sherman has in mind for us."

"shut up," alex laughs, pulling maggie back towards her with just a tug of her shirt, "i really hate to pop your big ego, _pretty dimples_ , but she does the same thing to kara's boyfriends."

a pause.

"i mean, _dates_. kara's dates," alex corrects herself, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, and maggie smirks, catching the _girlfriend_ slip, but she doesn't mention it, not when alex kisses her a second later, perhaps to shield herself from even further embarrassment, but maggie doesn't mention that either and just kisses alex back enthusiastically, moving forward a little as alex twists the doorknob and then pushes into her apartment from behind.

they both lean inside, almost over the threshold, and maggie being maggie tries to chase alex's lips, but then alex giggles and rests a hand on maggie's chest to stop her—perhaps recalling what her mother told her in high school about _leaving_ _them wanting mor_ e—but maggie won't pout, because pouting over no sex on the first date is for fuckboys, and so she presses one last kiss to alex's cheek before bidding her a good night full of sweet dreams about pool and alien bars.

"i'll call you tomorrow, _alex honey_ ," maggie teases, but when alex confidently says, "oh you better, sawyer," a rush of blood goes straight from maggie's head to her center, causing her to sway right there on the spot.

_dear god_ , she wants alex more than she’s ever wanted another person, but she’s not disappointed.

she’ll wait.

she’ll wait for alex forever, if she has to.

 

**5.**

turns out, she doesn't have to wait very long.

maggie thinks she’s making the fifth move, even as the fifth move is being made. but in the end, it’s alex who makes the fifth, and then maggie loses count after that.

alex will never initiate their first time, maggie knows. she’s assertive in her profession, with her colleagues, with criminals, even with her little sister, but with intimacy, with anything sexual, alex is tentative and unsure, and so it’s maggie who invites alex up to her place one night after a few drinks at their bar, and when alex says _yes_ , maggie goes a step further.

she invites alex over to the couch, and when alex says _yes_ , they skip all pleasantries this time, both more eager than anticipated, and they kiss, and they touch, and it’s only their third date, just two weeks since their first, but there’s this heady tension in the air, and alex isn’t stopping her, isn’t pushing her away, and so maggie invites alex into her bedroom, and when alex says _yes_ , maggie’s racing heart drops from her chest right between her legs.

they freefall back into her unmade bed, right above the wrinkled sheets, with maggie on top, on top of the world. 

they take it slow, gentle but needy, closer and hotter by the second; fingers in hair, palms on ass, but it's not until alex's teeth scrape across maggie's collarbone that she even realizes she's lost her shirt.

she doesn’t know when. doesn’t care when.

her hands are burning a hot path up alex’s sides, rolling up her shirt as they go, but then there’s a palm on her stomach, pushing her back, and maggie’s up on her haunches, wide-eyed and alert before you can even think to say _freeze!_

“i’m sorry, am i moving too fast?” maggie breathes, but alex just smiles and shakes her head.

“no, no, maggie, this is a...a _very_ good pace,” alex assures her, breathing heavy too, “you're fine, baby, i just…i think i need a moment,” and she juts her chin to the bathroom, and maggie nods and mumbles something nonsensical back before rolling to the side so alex can slide out from under her.

the faucet water runs for a while, muffled through the closed door, and maggie waits patiently, sitting there half-naked with her hands pinched between her thighs as she looks around her messy room, unsure of what to do, what to think, or even how to place herself for when alex returns.

_sit up?_

_lie down?_

_on top of the sheets?_

_underneath?_

in the end, she decides to stay right where she is, just as alex reappears from the bathroom, shirt gone, now only in a lacy black bra, with the button on her pants unbuttoned, her zipper unzipped, the edges of her baby blue panties visible as they peek out temptingly right below alex’s hips.

maggie’s eyes linger.

_hungrily_.

the tips of alex’s hair are wet, but she looks more relaxed now, and in turn, maggie’s hunched shoulders sag back, her thighs unclench.

“you're sure?” she asks, once alex is straddling her lap and kissing her back down towards the bed, into the sheets.

“are _you_ sure?” alex asks back, and when maggie nods, alex smiles against her lips and whispers, “then so am i.”

 

**127?**

**...128?**

it’s been three months, and she’s happy, and alex is happy, and so she swears she’s not just trying to get laid when she writes alex a poem. 

well. 

not _entirely_.

she doesn’t do this sort of thing. she’s not the overtly romantic or intimate type. she’s not the girlfriend who checks in when she doesn’t hear from her girl all day. she’s not the girlfriend who texts _i miss u_ when there’s a lull during the nightshift.

she doesn’t do big surprises, or bouquets of flowers, or grand romantic gestures.

she just doesn’t.

she never has.

but she does now.

she checks in with alex because she gets worried sometimes, because she cares about alex—a whole freakin’ lot.

and she texts _i miss u_ to alex when they're not together, because she does miss alex; she sends alex obnoxiously colorful bouquets to her apartment, for no other reason than just 'cause, because _just 'cause_ is reason enough; she surprises alex with lunch when their very busy schedules intersect, because sometimes it feels like they never see each other (even though they always see each other); and she even does grand romantic gestures here and there, like plan cute picnics, or rent out entire science museums, because alex is a big nerd, and maybe maggie kind of is too.

and so, even though they haven’t yet confessed their love for each other, maggie uses her lunch break to click open her pen, rip out a scrap of paper from her notepad, and then scribble down a little something cute and dorky, because alex’s laughter is music to maggie's ears, especially when maggie’s the one responsible for that laughter.

and so she writes:

****_hey, do i impress you?  
_ _i really like the way you rock a sweatsuit  
_ _when you working out and i’m just watching how your legs move  
_ _they would think that you was, like, developed in a test tube_

_you deserve a theme song  
__you could be the shoulder that i lean on  
__love it when you're late for work and try to slip your jeans on  
__you be bumping barenaked ladies all up in your nissan_  

she reads over her sloppy handwriting, bites down on her pen, and then decides to dig deep—deeper than she's ever dug, for the final stanza of her poem:

_there is a potion in your lips_  
_so sweet, i’d die  
_ _there is an ocean in your hips  
_ _so deep, i’d dive  
_ _i hear an opus when we kiss  
_ _that completes my life_

and then she signs it:

**_\- your boo thang ;)_ **  

just for kicks.

(again, she totally didn't write the poem to get laid.

but maggie can’t exactly help how alex decides to thank her…

now can she?)

**Author's Note:**

> poem is song lyrics from overwhelming by jon bellion
> 
> minus the barenaked ladies part ;)


End file.
